Malice
by McCoyote
Summary: They were fascinated with each other from the start; but he was a criminal and she was on the run, and oh how Gotham loved to make fools of them all.


**Well, I haven't posted on this site in close to ten years, but here goes nothing! This story has been swimming around in my head for a couple weeks now, and I already have a good inclination of where things are going, although I tend to let stories write themselves. I can't guarantee how frequent updates will be, but I hope someone out there will be along for the ride. **

**EDIT: Changed the rating to T for now, but later I intend on things to get pretty Mature, but fair warning will be given if you're not into that sort of thing. I will also add more characters later on, but like I said previously, I let stories write themselves so who knows who will show up.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but Mal, and I make no money off of any of it. **

CHAPTER I

Mal would never forget the day Paolo first came to the restaurant begging for a job. He looked like he had been through the ringer, skin almost sickly pale and eyes bruised with lack of sleep. One of his legs had been badly injured recently, she could tell by the way he still winced when he walked. In all honesty she assumed he was homeless, but she wasn't certain. She was certain of one thing, however: his name wasn't Paolo.

Whatever his intentions, Mal found him interesting. He was quiet, and he never spoke unless spoken to, and even then responded with polite curtness. A couple of Maroni's men assumed he was a little backwards, with his strange mannerisms and withdrawn nature, but when they poked fun Mal could see the intelligence spark in his calculating blue eyes. There was something dark behind them, something alluring - behind his proper words was a man who knew what battles to fight and what battles to lose, and "Paolo" seemed to have been on the losing side far too long.

It gave Mal a refreshing new aspect in her daily life as a waitress. True, it wasn't always routine at Maroni's; Mal had seen her fare share of mob activity since being hired almost a year before, but she was never involved in it directly. That was the way she liked it. Mal flirted with danger but never really dove in, never asked questions. This was Gotham, and in Gotham one did what they had to to survive. She had no particular allegiance to Maroni or anyone for that matter, but she kept her mouth shut and kept Maroni's customers happy, and in return he paid her well enough to support herself and keep her away from her own demons.

Maybe that explained her new fascination. She had been alone too long with her thoughts, and though work provided her with welcome distraction she still found herself looking over her shoulder, wondering if she had been careful enough, wondering if hiding herself in the establishment of a known crime boss was enough. Mal knew she should have left Gotham a long time ago, but she found that she couldn't, because there was just something about this city that called her name and held her hostage.

Two weeks passed before Mal ever spoke to Paolo. It had been a hectic day, and Mal took her lunch break much later than she normally would. Rarely did she have the break room all to herself - usually at least one Maroni thug was in there to harass her. She was good at being cold however, and if it ever came to it she kept a stun gun secreted away in her apron just in case. For now she was grateful for the peace and quiet, though the general din of the restaurant carried faintly through the walls.

A shuffling outside the door broke her thoughts away from the plate of alfredo in front of her. She averted her gaze back down to her food as Paolo eased the swinging door open and entered with food of his own. She felt his eyes on her for a brief moment, hesitant, as he lingered in the doorway.

"I don't bite," Mal said, meeting his stare. There was so much in his body language that she wondered exactly what this man had been through to make him so undeterred by the mob but terrified of her.

"Of course not, Miss," he replied slowly. "If I'm disturbing your peace I can-"

"You can sit down," Mal responded. "You're so quiet I'm not really sure you can disturb much of anything." She gestured toward a seat across from her. "I'm Mal Merek. You can join me if you like."

It was amusing how uncomfortable he seemed by the offer, but he shuffled awkwardly over and settled down into the chair. Clearly he was trying to find her motive since before they had only ever shared the sparsest of words when Mal would bring dirty dishes to the back. Mal wondered herself what her motives were, since she had worked so hard to keep everyone at arm's length. She was dangerous company, moreso than anyone would ever suspect, and making friends now would do nothing to maintain her low profile. Friends were assets, and assets were vulnerable.

But...this was just a lunch break, and Mal had been dying to find out more about this mysterious dark Paolo with his painful limp and quiet manner.

"Paolo," he replied. He offered his hand and Mal shook his cool fingers, still damp from washing dishes. The way his name rolled off his tongue convinced Mal even more that it was a front. It sounded strange and unpracticed for a word he would have been saying his entire life. It was a subtle capture, but Mal was good at detail. It was somewhat of a family trait.

"Well, Paolo, it's nice to officially meet your acquaintance. It's hard to believe we've just met since you've been here for two weeks."

"How rude of me, my apologies," Paolo replied. "Making friends was never my strong suit."

_I wonder what is..._ "It was never mine either," Mal confessed. "So tell me, what brings you to Don Maroni's fine establishment? Usually new faces try very hard to make names to go with them. You've been quiet as a mouse."

Paolo balked at her forwardness, and Mal smirked. She loved to catch people off guard this way. Paolo's eyes seemed to darken and his face smoothed in a cool mask, and for a moment Mal almost felt guilty. It was like he was waiting for her to poke fun at him like the others.

"'Observe due measure, for right timing is in all things the most important factor,'" Paolo said quietly after some consideration.

"I see," Mal said, thoroughly interested. She knew there was much more to this man than his meek appearance. She twisted her fork around in her pasta thoughtfully, then pushed her meal aside and leaned forward. "Has anyone ever told you that you are a very interesting man?"

Paolo all but dropped his sandwich, barely maintaining his controlled features. "I would say this is a first." He finally met her gaze and appeared almost startled by it. "I...I can only hope that you mean this amicably."

"Are you always so suspicious?" Mal chuckled, and flashed a warm smile. Whatever his past, it was full of a darkness that left her wanting to know more. Intelligence was a weapon that could easily backfire, however, and digging into someone's past was always a recipe for disaster. It was a strange urge to want to know more about this complete stranger, so she decided to leave it alone. Besides, her lunch break was over and clearly her presence was making Paolo uncomfortable.

"Never mind," she dismissed, "don't answer that. In a place like this we can't afford not to be cautious. For the record though, I did mean that amicably. My break is up. Thank you for the company, it was most welcome."

* * *

Oswald balked on words as Mal left him alone to his thoughts. _"Thank you for the company," _she had said, _"it was most welcome."_

He was unsure if that was a jab at his vernacular or if she was merely trying to be friendly, but in his tainted experience he suspected the former. It was hard to tell; everything about her was off. She had been watching him since he first came here with eyes that were a little too piercing for his liking, dissecting him in an unreadable fashion that left him feeling chilled and a little exposed.

At first he worried she somehow worked for Fish Mooney and his cover was blown, but after several more days when Don Maroni didn't confront him or Fish didn't send someone else to finish the job, he doubted it was the case. The revelation did nothing to calm his nerves, but quite the opposite. With the obvious aside, what interest could this waitress possibly have in him? Infatuation? That was laughable. His past experience with women, let alone beautiful women, taught him that he was destined to rise to the top alone. His mother was the only woman he could trust, but even then he had to be careful lest someone use her against him.

Oswald decided to observe her in return, and he learned quickly that she appeared to have no special ties with anyone. It added to her strangeness, amplified even more when she started a casual conversation with him. It all felt unsettling to have someone's full attention, let alone someone he doubted he shared many commonalities with. All in all it was a distraction, but right now it was a waiting game with Maroni, and Oswald just couldn't get the waitress with the penetrating eyes out of his head...

* * *

It was a Saturday night, and official business hours were coming to a close. Mal was exhausted, but tonight there was a private party, and she still had three more hours until she could leave. That meant three hours of Maroni bosses plotting and drinking and possibly getting heated, depending on the topic of conversation. Mostly she would be in the back, helping to clean and begging the clock to move faster.

"You staying late too, Paolo?" Mal asked as she brought an armful of dishes into the kitchen. Paolo politely smiled as he scrubbed at the china carefully.

"I thought you could use the help. And I was instructed to deep clean this week so I thought now would be the perfect time."

"Timing is the most important factor," Mal said, laughing at the dumbfounded look on his face, and momentarily he stopped his methodic scrubbing. "I was listening, you know."

"Hesiod," Paolo said, clearing his throat. "Th-the quote, I mean. It was Hesiod. He was a Greek poet."

"Are you familiar with a lot of Greek anthology?"

"I spent a lot of time reading as a boy," Paolo answered. He pulled his hands from the soapy dishwater and dried them with a towel, studying Mal with an unreadable look. "Miss Merek, I must admit you're rather surprising."

"You mean that amicably, I hope," Mal said with a wink.

"Clever," Paolo responded with a breathy laugh. "I only mean to say, and no offense, most attractive women I've met are-"

"Stupid?" Mal supplied. "Well I thank you kindly for your compliment, backhanded though it may be - no offense taken, before you apologize." Paolo closed his mouth, for it looked as if he had been ready to do just that. "I'm going on break before everyone arrives."

"Enjoy, Miss Merek," Paolo replied. Mal slipped her apron from her head and dipped into the break room to grab her jacket. As she made to slip out the back she hesitated and looked back to Paolo, whose head instantly snapped down to focus on the dishes. By the way his neck was beginning to blush Mal thought she just caught him peeking at her.

"Hey Paolo," Mal called back, "I'm glad to have the company tonight. Don't work yourself too hard."

* * *

Oswald leaned against the sink with his mind racing. He couldn't make heads or tails of Mal, but no matter what she was certain to become a liability. He shifted his gaze to the small window out into the dining room, watching as a slow trickle of guests entered. Sal Maroni seemed in good spirits tonight, though over what Oswald couldn't be certain. He should be paying closer attention, listening in, but with Mal here tonight it was going to be difficult.

Unlike the others, Mal talked to him - _joked_ with him. She had this habit of repeating things he had said, and he had come to the conclusion she was making fun of him until she flashed that secret smile Oswald had grown fond of over the past week. She never smiled like that at anyone else. Observing was one of his best attributes, and from what he observed Mal largely ignored everyone.

She was beautiful and risky and could ruin everything he had planned. Oswald knew he couldn't let distractions get the best of him, and it pained him to consider the possibility that he should get rid of her. No, he couldn't do that, things were still under control.

The back door opened and Mal rushed in, soaked but holding two coffees. The rain drummed against the pavement outside. "Thought you might like some coffee. I know I needed it," she said, setting a cup down for him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, offering her a clean, dry towel. His insides were twisted in knots, and he watched with fascination as she toweled off her choppy ginger hair. _Control_, he thought. He grabbed the coffee from the table and took a sip. It was equal parts sweet and bitter, just as he liked it.

"Mal, get your ass out here!" the manager burst in suddenly, his voice a harsh whisper. He threw a glare over to him as well. "Back to work, _Penguin_."

Fire crept through Oswald's limbs as he clenched his jaw to hold back a retort. Mal didn't seem to notice, but rolled her eyes and tossed the damp towel aside. "Duty calls," she said, disappearing into the dining room.

The next hour was a flurry of customer service for Mal and cleaning for Oswald, but it gave him time to plot. The manager was unaware, but he had made a dangerous enemy out of Oswald, and Oswald was determined to make him pay. He'd had enough of the world's cruel jokes, the latest punch line being his mangled leg and his pronounced limp that only reinforced his cruel nickname. He would see who was left laughing when he was at the top, and he dared them to call him Penguin then.

"Finally!" Mal said. entering the kitchen and tossing out another empty wine bottle. "Might get some time to breathe. How's the deep clean?"

"As expected," Oswald replied, wringing out a rag he'd been using to wipe down the wine chiller. His mood was dark and all preoccupations with Mal had been forced aside. He felt her presence as she hovered, and then she was gone, and a part of him felt empty and yet secure at the same time. And then the water was running in the sink and Mal was kneeling down on the floor beside him with a bucket of her own, and Oswald couldn't help but feel elated.

She must have sensed his mood because she didn't speak but instead began cleaning alongside him. It was...companionable... a notion that had escaped Oswald's conscience for most of his life. He found himself trapped in a pleasant sort of limbo, lost in a world where he wasn't just an outsider looking in. Mal could have no idea the effect she had on him, nor could he ever let her know.

"I appreciate the help," Oswald said, forcing himself back into the real world. "You really don't have to."

"It's no problem. I'm just glad to have someone to hang out with. I don't necessarily...fit in around here."

"I find that hard to believe," Oswald replied, maybe a little too bitterly. That piercing gaze forced him to look up - did she know her eyes were like knives? "I-I mean...I just... it seems unlikely is all..."

"Oh believe me, it's not. I'm a private person. A loner. I guess I look nice cleaned up in my work clothes, but after a while they all realize that they're just clothes and I'm just...strange. Standoffish."

Mal clamped her mouth shut and scrubbed harder at the fridge she'd moved on to. Oswald had a sense that she didn't mean to share so much, and her words sounded just as bitter as his own. Maybe his own judgments weren't as accurate as he thought. "It appears we have more in common that I first thought," he said.

"I think we do," Mal responded turning to lean against a counter. She looked off and out into the dining room. It was loud out there, but jovial. "So how long are you going to let me keep calling you Paolo before you tell me your real name?"

Oswald dropped the rag he'd been holding and narrowed his eyes at her, panic twisting in his gut. Did she know who he was? Who was she? What did she want from him? And if she knew, did others suspect?

"Oh come on," Mal said, crossing her arms. "Don't clam up on me. I knew from the second you introduced yourself that your name wasn't Paolo. Your secret is safe with me, I promise. Everyone has a past, and some of us have more to hide than others." There was a pause in which Oswald wondered what her past was hiding. "I'm only curious, but you don't have to tell me."

"It's a...delicate...situation," Oswald said slowly, feeling his way through this conversation. There was a thousand ways in which this could go wrong, the number one being a choice to trust her. Mal was a stranger after all, and it appeared that way on more than one level. Oswald didn't like to feel so uneasy.

"Fair enough. I'm sorry to make you so uncomfortable. If it's any consolation, no one else caught on. You're not a terrible liar - I'm just that good," she added with a cheeky grin.

"Oswald," he said quickly, kicking himself almost immediately for even giving away that much. It was only a first name, surely he wasn't the only one in all of Gotham...

"Oswald," Mal said to herself, and how sensual it sounded coming from her lips. Oswald tried to swallow but found his mouth had gone dry. "I like it. It suits you so much better. Now I promise I won't say it again so long as we're here."

Oswald only nodded, not trusting himself to speak.


End file.
